This Orfeo set contains a concert from a 22-day tour,
during which Furtwängler and the orchestra gave 18 concerts in
three countries. The Haydn 88 from Stuttgart prefaced another Bruckner
4 and, somewhat incongruously, Ravel’s Rapsodie Espagnole. This
concert was also preserved in its entirety and would have made a fascinating
companion set to the Munich concert. The Bruckner symphony barely alters
from Stuttgart to Munich but the earlier performance has been issued
less frequently and the audience is quieter. A previous issue of the
Bruckner from Munich is at a higher pitch, causing a difference of over
three minutes to the symphony’s timing; this one seems to be correct
and is from a Bavarian Radio tape. Direct comparison appears to indicate
that the previous issue was of an in-house tape, judging from the giveaway
presence of seat creaking.

H.C. Robbins Landon has said that Furtwängler’s
studio recording of Haydn 88 (made a little over a month later with
the Berlin Philharmonic) is one of the finest of all Haydn symphony
recordings. High praise, but Furtwängler’s heavily accented way
with the symphony is not to my taste; certainly of the works on this
set it is the one which most modern ears will find hardest to like.
The first beat of the bar is relentlessly stressed in the first and
third movements and grace is in short supply throughout. The live performance
betrays these faults rather more strongly than the studio recording.
Without recourse to the slimmer textures of period instruments, Rattle
has conducted the Vienna Phil in this piece to much more positive effect;
I hope they record it together.

The popularity of Furtwängler’s art and the increasing
accessibility of good original tapes has led to just about every one
of the conductor’s extant performances being available at any one time.
Consequently even the most mendacious of labels have ceased to claim
that such-and-such a Beethoven 7 is ‘never before released’. Record
companies now claim the attention of Furtwängler-fanciers with
one of two tactics: new remastering of familiar tapes (which Tahra and
EMI do, largely with success) and the repackaging of more-or-less familiar
performances in the context of their original concert (EMI’s recently
issued set of the Third and Fifth Brandenburgs with an Eroica is a must-hear).
Perhaps the concept sounds rather glib, but the more such packages I
hear, the more I find that they not only enhance the enjoyment of performances
which may already be familiar to the listener but that the provision
of their context offers valuable information about aspects of the interpretation
on that particular occasion - aspects which might otherwise have caused
one to prefer another performance on another occasion.

Taking into consideration Furtwängler’s recorded
performances of the Coriolan Overture as an example, few would rate
the broader span of this Munich performance superior to the terrifyingly
intense version from Berlin in 1943. The sforzandi which slash across
the earlier version are softened in favour of a no less weighty (the
glowering, massive opening chords should convince you of that) concentration
on the work’s doom-laden dramatic subtext. In 1943 the release of fury
through the work’s climactic series of descending chords had been scored
so heavily into the music that the coda limps disjointedly to its muted
end like a wounded beast. In 1951 the descent is more gradual and more
noble, at a steadier tempo with slightly less exaggeratedly soft playing.
If anything, the interpretation brings out a sense of the heroic in
the score rather than that of desperation. Schumann’s Manfred comes
much closer both in dramatic content and in structure. What, then, does
Furtwängler programme next in the concert but the composer’s First
Symphony!

The hugely rhetorical Andante introduction thus becomes
less grandiose than it can sometimes seem. The softer approach to phrasing
remarked on earlier is a frequent characteristic of Furtwängler’s
post-war interpretations and one which perhaps suits the sound and phrasing
of the Vienna Philharmonic better than the knotted and dark orchestral
fist of the Berliners which helps to define the character of so many
of Furtwangler’s wartime performances. One of his masterful transitions
leads into an Allegro which springs (sorry) along with a lightness of
articulation not always associated with the conductor as ultimate purveyor
of an intense, Germanic style. Impetuosity and good humour are everywhere
in evidence; I can’t imagine how the opening theme of the slow movement
could be played any more lovingly than it is here, with slight hesitations
that never impede the music’s flow.

The most difficult movement to bring off is the finale,
as full of episodes as indeed that of Bruckner’s Fourth. Furtwängler’s
approach to both is not to paper over the cracks but, with pauses sliced
out of the music and a wide variety of tempos, to make them part of
a landscape rich in incident. For all that, the transition seven minutes
into Bruckner’s finale still sounds as though it’s about to settle into
a Pomp and Circumstance march. Unscripted timpani rolls and a cymbal
crash at 2’40" in the finale will tell you that the edition is
hardly standard, but put them aside and you’ll hear a Bruckner performance
of sure purpose and amazing energy. How the strings surge into a melody
whenever they are given a chance, yet Furtwängler doesn’t need
modern engineering to ensure that wind detail isn’t swamped. His tempi
for the first two movements are, allowing for ebb and flow, fairly similar
and thus consistent with the markings. The Andante quasi allegretto
is especially well sustained, with a pathos all the more affecting for
being quite self-contained and not the slightest bit sentimental. If
you get a chance to hear this, don’t miss five minutes into I, where
Furtwängler makes a massive pause before the strings enter with
a huge (equally unmarked) accent. The effect is even more dramatic on
what remains of a 1941 performance given in Berlin. Were it complete,
the felt need of the music to make itself heard would place this at
the top of recorded performances of the symphony.

Those who already know and love this Munich Bruckner
Fourth may well wish to hear it at the correct pitch (!). Those who
have been happy with the ‘standard library recommendation’ of Böhm
and the Vienna Philharmonic should hear a performance on a quite other
level of inspiration. Knappertsbusch’s live Vienna Phil recording shares
that passion but succumbs to technical and textural gaucheries.

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